Dana R. Lynn - Amish Country Ambush

It was also her house. The house she had lived in for the past two years with Mikey, her nephew who was now three years old. And the phone number belonged to her babysitter, Diana Mosher, who was definitely not the person on the phone. Where was Diana? Who was calling her?

Something horrible had happened, and she couldn’t understand a word of it. The urge to throw down her headset and dash out the door was fierce. Her hands were already on the headset, ready to snatch it from her head before she realized that she was the only one who could notify the authorities of the need for help. But who should she call? Police? Ambulance? Fire department? As head dispatcher, it was her job to send the call to the correct department.

The shouting on the other end eased off as the woman on the line started sobbing. She sounded younger than Elise had first thought. Wait a minute. Her cleaning girl, Leah, was due in today. Elise had hired her because she herself was allergic to dust, and there was dust everywhere in a farmhouse in rural northwestern Pennsylvania. Leah was Amish. She spoke English and was able to communicate with Elise perfectly well—but if she was upset, and she definitely sounded upset, she might default to Pennsylvania Dutch.

“Leah?” A sob answered her. “Leah...it’s Elise. What happened?”

“I think she’s dead,” Leah answered through her tears.

Diana? Fear and grief started to collide. Not again. Please, God. Not again.

Forcing a calm she didn’t feel, Elise said, “Leah, what happened to Diana? Do you see Mikey? Is my nephew there?” She clamped her lips against the flood of hysteria threatening to break free.

On the other end, Leah sucked in a harsh breath. In the distance, Elise could make out a crash on the other end of the line. Not thunder—something else. Something more frightening. Then another crash. Something was happening.

“Leah? What’s going on?”

Then a whisper. “I think someone’s in the house.”

The line went dead.

Elise froze for a second, gagging on the fear that closed her throat. She’d been too complacent. Tricked into a sense of false security. And now the danger she should have been expecting all along had found her again. Yes, it was possible that a complete stranger was breaking into her house, but she doubted it. Every instinct she possessed was shrieking that the attack was deliberate, and she was the intended target.

The memories she’d been running from swamped her. Her sister, Karalynne, murdered. Elise believed with all her heart that her overly possessive brother-in-law Hudson had killed Karalynne. But he’d disappeared. And she’d taken Mikey and moved away from the memories.

Could Hudson be responsible for this new attack?

She shook her head. The police had told her Hudson had died, a horrible violent death. She’d seen the report. Part of her had sighed in relief, choosing to believe she and her nephew were safe.

But now unease returned. As much as she wanted to believe Hudson was dead, there was one fact that had always bothered her. His body had never been found. The police had insisted that the car fire that had killed him had incinerated his remains. What if...

Enough! She had to get to Mikey. Because someone was after them. Although if it wasn’t Hudson Langor, she didn’t know who would have any reason to attack her home.

She should have warned Diana about Hudson. And about the brutal violence he was capable of. But without proof, who’d believe her?

If only she’d stayed home one more day! She’d had a nasty stomach bug that had kept her at home for the past two days, but today she’d felt well enough to come into work. Had she been home...

Elise couldn’t worry about that. Not now. She had to get to Mikey. He was all that mattered.

Her coworker Monica Johnson sauntered into the room, a bored expression on her pretty face. She could do the job.

Elise whipped off her headset and jumped up so fast her wheeled chair was propelled back, slamming into the wall behind her. Monica stared at her, openmouthed. Elise never got emotional at work. When handling frantic emergency calls, she felt that calmness on her end was key. But this wasn’t a normal situation where she had to soothe a stranger into sharing the necessary details. This time, she was the one under attack, and she couldn’t hide how frightened she was.

“Monica! Send the police to my address. Someone broke in. And send an ambulance, too. My babysitter may have been injured. I’m heading there now.”

Not Mikey. Please, God. Let Mikey and Leah be okay. Diana’s image floated through her mind. And if it’s possible, please let Diana still be alive.

Monica nodded, her face pale and shocked as she shooed Elise away. Elise could hear Monica’s loud, abrasive voice as she called the police. Elise grabbed up her purse and flew out the door. Thankfully, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. She wouldn’t have to deal with traffic or darkness as she drove.

She hadn’t counted on the rain, though, turning the muggy July day into a wet mess. Elise dashed to her car, her feet slogging through puddles as fat raindrops pounded relentlessly on her bare head. She hadn’t thought to grab her umbrella on her way out the door, and she certainly wasn’t going back for it now—not when every second counted.

She was soaked and shivering by the time she was seated behind the wheel. She started the engine and shifted into Drive. Clenching the wheel in both hands, she drove furiously, swerving to avoid the larger puddles. Even so, her right wheel hit one and water splashed up on the windshield.

Pulling onto her road, she spun the wheel and turned sharply into her long gravel driveway. Then she stopped. She couldn’t see her house from here, but she could envision it clearly. The large farmhouse that had appeared so perfect to hide in when she’d first seen it now seemed like the perfect haven for a madman lying in wait to ambush her. If she drove all the way up the driveway, he’d hear the car and know she was coming. She had to walk. Decision made, she pulled the car off the driveway enough to let the emergency vehicles pass. Then she killed the engine. Her fingers fumbled on her seat belt. Finally, the buckle slipped free and she shoved it aside, her free hand scrambling for the door latch.

Leaving her purse in the car, she grabbed her keys and ran up the driveway. She was a good runner, but her anxiety had her breathing faster than normal. By the time she’d reached the side of her house, she was panting. Sweat, mixed with rainwater, dripped down her neck.

At the stairs, she paused. If she was going to assume the intruder was still inside, then she needed to consider her entrance carefully. If the attacker was Hudson, the man had a brutal streak that ran deep. While her heart urged her to get inside and find her nephew as quickly as possible, caution was advised, especially if she had any hope of saving Mikey and Leah. Where were the police?

Carefully, she pulled open the screen door. The heavy wooden front door was unlocked. It swung open with a faint creak. She cringed. Had Hudson heard that? She held her breath and listened. Nothing. The silence terrified her. Ten minutes ago, Leah had been shrieking. Now, aside from the still-pouring rain beating against the roof and windows, there was no sound at all.

She slipped in through the half-open door and glanced around. From this vantage point, she had a clear view of both the living room and the dining room. No one seemed to be there. She took a step into the open living room and approached the couch, which faced into the room. Something crunched under her foot. Glass. From where?

She lifted her eyes to look around and sucked in a shocked breath. Every single picture on the wall had been shattered, the familiar images damaged or destroyed. Her heart stuck in her throat. All she had left of her sister was wrapped up in pictures and her son. Now the pictures had been destroyed, and Mikey... Again, she shoved down the urge to run to his room. If she was going to protect him, she needed to be cautious—to carefully assess the situation rather than rush in. She continued her survey of the room.